7. Amber Barnacle
A twilit room with wooden tiles on the floor. Tiles gleaming with blood. A man in farmer's clothing, crouching over a struggling animal, staring up at him in horror. His mouth opened in a plea: "Please. please don't." But two dark figures stepped forward, blocking the farmer from view. They couldn't block out his scream.
Harry sat up in bed. His breathing was shallow and his scar was burning like fire. He listened in the darkness, but his classmates seemed to be asleep. 'At least this time I didn't scream,' he thought bitterly, and pulled the blanket higher. These hideous pictures were driving him crazy. He lay in bed, his hand pressed against his throbbing scar, and stared at the ceiling above him. These visions had to stop. It had taken long enough for him to understand and accept that they weren't an advantage, that they made him vulnerable. If Voldemort succeeded in getting a hold of his mind, who knew what he would do next.
'If only I'd taken those Occultation classes with Snape more seriously,' he scolded himself, grimacing as his scar gave another throb. "I know you've just killed again - now leave me in peace!" he hissed and turned over onto his stomach, his face pressed into his pillow. 'Think about something else, something nice.Or - even better- think about nothing at all.'
He couldn't carry on like this. Harry sighed. But there was only one way to stop this flood of images, and he wouldn't enjoy that any more than he enjoyed his nightmares.
***
The next few days passed peacefully. Harry had expected to find news about Voldemort's latest murder in the Daily Prophet, but that wasn't the case. When the next week had gone by without the smallest article, Harry gave up waiting.
After breakfast they made their way to the Charms classroom. They had just reached the fourth floor and were turning into the main corridor when Ron bumped hard into a girl and dropped his books. "Oh, sorry!" The girl seemed to be in a hurry, but looked apologetic. "I didn't mean for that to happen." She bent over hastily and helped Ron to collect up his books.
"Don't worry about it," Ron said, straightening out a few pages in his copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'. The girl handed him the rest of his books and looked at him in embarrassment, brushing a strand of blond hair out of her face. Her amber-coloured eyes looked genuinely apologetic. "I. I have to go," she murmured, and hurried past them towards the stairs.
Ron stared after her in surprise. "Who was that?"
Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully, and Harry gave his friend a crooked grin. "Unless I've suddenly become colour-blind. a Slytherin?"
***
Luna barely looked up from her magazine.
"Yes, that's Amber Barnacle," she told the trio, turning the page. "She's in the fourth year."
Harry was pleased. It had been a good idea to ask Luna about the girl - no one else knew as many Hogwarts students as she did. "She sat next to me on her first journey in the Hogwarts Express," Luna continued. "There was no room for her in her cousin's compartment."
Hermione frowned. "She has a cousin here? Who's that?"
"Draco Malfoy," Luna answered, starting the crossword puzzle.
***
"Are you mad?" Ron stared at Harry in bewilderment. "You want me to talk to that.. that. to Malfoy's cousin?"
"You've managed it once already," Harry grinned, helping himself to the roast potatoes.
Ron looked anything but enthusiastic. "Why don't you do it yourself?"
"She didn't bump into me." Harry tucked into his meal. "And anyway, it was you she was looking at the whole time."
His friend almost spat out his meatballs in horror. "She was what? You're seeing things! She's a Slytherin, for God's sake!"
"So?" Hermione interrupted him sternly. "She apologised to you, instead of rushing past. She helped you pick up your books even though she was in a hurry. She wasn't the least bit hostile."
"Maybe she didn't see the colour of our ties," Ron grumbled. "She can't be a nice person."
"Because she's a Slytherin?" Ginny sighed.
"And Malfoy's bloody cousin!" Ron slammed his fist down on the table. "We can't just invite her along to our meetings!"
Neville looked at him timidly. "But we agreed to find a few approachable Slytherins, so that we'd have someone from every house in the group."
"To make friends," nodded Hermione. "Ron, it's so important!"
"Then you talk to her," he said stubbornly.
Hermione folded her serviette and put it to one side. "Alright then, I will, since you're too pig-headed."
***
They had started to arrange the first meeting of term for the remaining members of the DA. As clubs were no longer forbidden, as they had been under Umbridge's brief rule, they no longer had to act in secret, and could talk about it openly with their classmates. Harry was sitting with Ernie, Luna and the Creevey brothers, and arranged a convenient time for them to meet before the start of Quidditch training. They were joined by Michael and Cho. Cho had obviously stopped being angry with Harry, and had stopped ignoring him. She now seemed satisfied with the way things had ended the previous year, and appeared to get on very well with Michael. She had also stopped throwing poisonous glances at Hermione whenever she was nearby.
"If you're looking for your girlfriend," Michael greeted Harry, "I'd look near the lake. That girl with a mane like a lion who's talking and laughing with a Slytherin." He seemed as surprised as Ron had been at lunch.
Harry scribbled down the date and time for the next meeting on a piece of parchment and handed it to Cho. "Ah, she's talking to Amber." He said it so casually that Michael looked confused. Harry sighed. "Listen, it's bad enough that most of the Slytherins have prejudices against everyone else. We shouldn't have any, if we find one or two decent Slytherins."
"How do you know that Amber's a decent person?" Michael grumbled.
Harry grabbed his schoolbag and stood up. "A first impression? And I think I'll go and get another one. See you in Herbology."
He left the group and strolled down to the lake. It was a glorious autumn day and most of the students were spending their lunch hour out of doors. Hermione and Amber were sitting under a tree next to the lake. Harry waved to the girls and they waved back. He smiled and joined them.
"Hermione's just told me about your group," said Amber, leaning against the tree trunk. "I'd like to come along, if I wouldn't be in the way. Oh." She laughed and held out her hand. "We haven't been officially introduced. I'm Amber Barnacle."
"I know," grinned Harry, shaking hands with her. "I'm Harry Potter."
"I know that too," she laughed.
They leant over the parchment that Harry held out to them, and he told Amber the time and place of the meeting. They had arranged to meet on Wednesday evening. There was an empty room next to the Charms classroom which was big enough and which they would be allowed to use.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Harry asked after a while.
Amber looked at him curiously. "What question?"
"Why you're in Slytherin."
She laughed and tossed back her blond hair. It was the same colour as Draco's, Harry realised. But apart from that she seemed nothing like her cousin.
"For the last few centuries it's been a scandal in my family if anyone doesn't end up in Slytherin. It's tradition."
"But the Sorting Hat." Harry began, but Amber interrupted him. "In its way the hat is corruptible too. It rarely happens that it sends someone from a well-known family to a completely different house from the one all their ancestors belonged to. Besides, I never objected to being in Slytherin. I wanted to be."
"You wanted to be in Slytherin?" Hermione asked.
Amber nodded. "Sure. My father wouldn't have been happy if I'd have ended up in Hufflepuff. That was his greatest fear. He didn't think I was selfish enough to be in Slytherin and was prepared for the worst.and I wanted to give him a nice surprise."
Harry and Hermione stared at her open-mouthed, and she laughed.
"And? Was he pleased?" Hermione chuckled.
Amber grinned. "Pleased as punch. He fell to ground and thanked his holy demons for saving him from such ignominy." She laughed louder. A group of Hufflepuffs, who were passing by, looked at her uncertainly and sped up a little.
Harry gave Amber the parchment and she promised to come to the meeting. On the way back to the classroom, Hermione gave him a friendly nudge. "What will Ron say when we tell him what nice people there are in Slytherin?"
Harry smiled. "He'd rather eat a Quaffle for breakfast than believe it."
***
However, neither of them had the chance to speak to Ron before Potions. To start the lesson, Snape growled out a complicated recipe for the Carraig- Potion, which was used to turn objects and plants into stone. Harry almost miscounted his palusos scales as he thought about what he should say to Snape. Actually he didn't want to say anything to him. He would have preferred not to be dependent on the bad-tempered teacher. But he knew that Severus Snape could not be avoided if he wanted to get his visions under control.
To his satisfaction he managed to produce a potion that was the right colour, and immediately corked a sample of it in a labelled bottle. Each student was supposed to bring a sample to Snape at the end of the lesson, so that he could test the potion's effectiveness. But before Harry could hand in his bottle, Malfoy pushed his way between Harry and the desk, a malicious smile on his face. Unseen by Snape, he knocked the bottle from Harry's hand and it smashed to pieces on the floor.
"Oh, Potter, how clumsy of me," smirked Malfoy as he placed his own sample on Snape's desk. "I'm so sorry."
Fuming, Harry ignored the oily smile that Snape gave when he saw that Harry had unfortunately cleaned his caldron before handing in the sample. Once again he had nothing to show for his practical work. He could already see a triumphant Snape throwing him off the course. He felt like wringing Malfoy's neck on the spot.
Hermione shot him a sympathetic glance as he walked back to his place. He didn't have time to make another potion. The lesson was already over and the students were leaving the classroom.
Harry slowly packed his things together and watched the others leave. When the last of them had disappeared through the doorway, he stood up too. He looked over at Professor Snape, who was brooding over a piece of parchment on his desk and didn't notice him. Either that, thought Harry, or he was simply ignoring him.
He felt terribly awkward as he walked hesitantly around his desk towards Snape, who still hadn't looked up. The splinters of glass from his bottle were still lying on the floor, and Harry stepped over them with a sigh. It would be a miracle if Snape even listened to him without chasing him out of the classroom. Harry's throat was bone dry. Finally he gave a little cough.
"Er. Professor.?"
Snape looked up and stared at him. His piercing gaze did nothing to increase Harry's confidence. There was a moment of complete silence, and Harry took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Potter, but there can be no excuse for the broken bottle," said Snape coolly, glancing down at Harry's Carraig-Potion which was still shining wet on the floor.
"That's not what I'm here about," answered Harry. Not only would Snape refuse to give him a grade for the missing potion, he was now going to get even further into his teacher's bad books. The Potions master raised his eyebrows in a question. "I." stammered Harry, "... I wanted to ask you if you could give me Occultation lessons again. and to apologise.for." Snape's gaze was now so piercing that Harry thought his eyes would bore deep holes in his head. He forced himself to continue: ".for not taking the lessons seriously. I.I'm sorry."
He had said it. Harry felt slightly sick. Now Snape would use this admission of weakness to humiliate him and send him out of the room. But the teacher was silent. He put the parchment aside and leant slowly back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
"So, you'd like Occultation lessons..." he drawled. "Why the sudden interest? Are you hoping to amuse yourself by dragging out more embarrassing memories from my past?" His voice was so cold that the dungeon seemed snug and warm in comparison.
"No, sir," said Harry quietly. "And I didn't enjoy it."
Again Snape's dark eyes seemed to bore into him. "So you didn't enjoy watching your heroic father tormenting your hated teacher as a schoolboy?" he asked acidly.
Harry dropped his eyes. "He had no reason to do that."
"Of course he had a reason!" Snape said so loudly that Harry jumped in alarm. "You've heard his reason for yourself, Potter!"
Yes, he'd heard. "It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.".
"No," Harry murmured, forcing himself to raise his eyes. "What I heard wasn't a reason and it wasn't an excuse. But Professor - I don't want to talk about my father. I."
"Because I could end up spoiling that image you have of a perfect father and all-round nice guy?" Snape snorted, rolling up the parchment on his desk.
"Up till then everyone had said nice things about him!" Harry's fear of his Potions teacher had vanished and been replaced by a rebellious defiance. "How was I supposed to know that he could be an arrogant idiot too if no one told me? Because friends never say bad things about their friends, no matter what they've done!"
Snape had been about to turn away from him, but he stopped. He voice was now quieter, but still cutting. He looked searchingly at Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Potter, did you ever have the desire to own somebody? Not just the wish - the desire!"
Harry looked at him in surprise at the obvious change of subject. "The desire to. what?"
"Answer my question!" Snape shouted, bringing the roll of parchment down smartly on the desk so that the potion bottles clinked together. "Yes or no?".
Harry had jumped back a step and was staring at his teacher in horror. "No, sir," he answered in a small voice.
Snape rested both hands on his desk and leant forward. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. "Your father did. He wanted to own Lily. Not to win her in a fair fight, no, he wanted to own her, whatever the cost! And he was so, so sure that he would get her!"
For a moment Harry stood as if rooted to the spot, and then, quite suddenly, he understood. Yes, now he understood everything.
"You loved her," he blurted out in surprise, and couldn't help but stare at Snape in bewilderment. Instead of losing his temper again, Snape remained silent and pressed his lips together. But even without an answer, Harry knew that he was right. Back then, his father had been trying to impress Lily, so that she would go out with him. And Snape must have had an eye on her too. That would explain the rivalry between the two young men that had escalated into hatred. But.
"You called her a Mudblood," said Harry, and now it was his turn to speak coldly.
Snape raised his eyes and nodded. He answered so calmly and seriously that his words seemed to resonate in Harry's ears. "Yes, I did. When you're humiliated to that point you say the wrong things out of sheer desperation, just to preserve a scrap of pride. Even the pride that prevents you from accepting someone's help."
Harry didn't answer, but he understood. He himself was often too proud to ask for help, even when it was the right thing to do. False pride - as he had painfully come to realise. And in disbelief he found that for the first time ever while in Snape's presence he actually felt sympathy for this man he had always hated so much.
"In the following generation the roles seem to have been reversed," Snape remarked, packing away the roll of parchment and the bottles of Carraig- Potion. "Thursday at six-thirty," he added shortly. Harry looked at him in astonishment. "Occultation lesson in my office," Snape growled. "And I would advise you to be punctual!"
It took a moment for Harry to process the fact that Snape had actually agreed to teach him. Still surprised, he stammered out a "thank you, sir", grabbed his schoolbag and threw it over his shoulder. He hurried to the door, worried that he'd misheard and that Snape was about to send him to the devil. He wound his way through the rows of tables and had just reached the door when he heard a soft "Reparo!" from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Snape pick his now repaired bottle of Carraig-Potion from the floor. Some drops of the potion had remained on the glass and were now inside the bottle. Snape turned over the bottle in his hands, examining its contents. "Not much left, and it's rather dirty. but as a sample it will do." He looked up. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall by now, Potter?" he snapped.
A smile stole across Harry's face when he saw Snape put his sample with the others as he left the dungeon.
***
"I'm proud of you," beamed Hermione when he told her and Ron about his conversation with Snape. "It's so important for you to carry on with Occultation lessons."
Ron pulled a face. "In his shoes I'd rather give it a miss, knowing Snape."
"Well fortunately you're not in his shoes," Hermione snapped, and Ron pulled his chair a little further away from her.
"Alright, alright," he reassured her. "I was only joking. But I look forward to seeing Malfoy's face when Snape reads out the marks and he hears to his surprise that Harry's didn't fail!"
A twilit room with wooden tiles on the floor. Tiles gleaming with blood. A man in farmer's clothing, crouching over a struggling animal, staring up at him in horror. His mouth opened in a plea: "Please. please don't." But two dark figures stepped forward, blocking the farmer from view. They couldn't block out his scream.
Harry sat up in bed. His breathing was shallow and his scar was burning like fire. He listened in the darkness, but his classmates seemed to be asleep. 'At least this time I didn't scream,' he thought bitterly, and pulled the blanket higher. These hideous pictures were driving him crazy. He lay in bed, his hand pressed against his throbbing scar, and stared at the ceiling above him. These visions had to stop. It had taken long enough for him to understand and accept that they weren't an advantage, that they made him vulnerable. If Voldemort succeeded in getting a hold of his mind, who knew what he would do next.
'If only I'd taken those Occultation classes with Snape more seriously,' he scolded himself, grimacing as his scar gave another throb. "I know you've just killed again - now leave me in peace!" he hissed and turned over onto his stomach, his face pressed into his pillow. 'Think about something else, something nice.Or - even better- think about nothing at all.'
He couldn't carry on like this. Harry sighed. But there was only one way to stop this flood of images, and he wouldn't enjoy that any more than he enjoyed his nightmares.
***
The next few days passed peacefully. Harry had expected to find news about Voldemort's latest murder in the Daily Prophet, but that wasn't the case. When the next week had gone by without the smallest article, Harry gave up waiting.
After breakfast they made their way to the Charms classroom. They had just reached the fourth floor and were turning into the main corridor when Ron bumped hard into a girl and dropped his books. "Oh, sorry!" The girl seemed to be in a hurry, but looked apologetic. "I didn't mean for that to happen." She bent over hastily and helped Ron to collect up his books.
"Don't worry about it," Ron said, straightening out a few pages in his copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'. The girl handed him the rest of his books and looked at him in embarrassment, brushing a strand of blond hair out of her face. Her amber-coloured eyes looked genuinely apologetic. "I. I have to go," she murmured, and hurried past them towards the stairs.
Ron stared after her in surprise. "Who was that?"
Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully, and Harry gave his friend a crooked grin. "Unless I've suddenly become colour-blind. a Slytherin?"
***
Luna barely looked up from her magazine.
"Yes, that's Amber Barnacle," she told the trio, turning the page. "She's in the fourth year."
Harry was pleased. It had been a good idea to ask Luna about the girl - no one else knew as many Hogwarts students as she did. "She sat next to me on her first journey in the Hogwarts Express," Luna continued. "There was no room for her in her cousin's compartment."
Hermione frowned. "She has a cousin here? Who's that?"
"Draco Malfoy," Luna answered, starting the crossword puzzle.
***
"Are you mad?" Ron stared at Harry in bewilderment. "You want me to talk to that.. that. to Malfoy's cousin?"
"You've managed it once already," Harry grinned, helping himself to the roast potatoes.
Ron looked anything but enthusiastic. "Why don't you do it yourself?"
"She didn't bump into me." Harry tucked into his meal. "And anyway, it was you she was looking at the whole time."
His friend almost spat out his meatballs in horror. "She was what? You're seeing things! She's a Slytherin, for God's sake!"
"So?" Hermione interrupted him sternly. "She apologised to you, instead of rushing past. She helped you pick up your books even though she was in a hurry. She wasn't the least bit hostile."
"Maybe she didn't see the colour of our ties," Ron grumbled. "She can't be a nice person."
"Because she's a Slytherin?" Ginny sighed.
"And Malfoy's bloody cousin!" Ron slammed his fist down on the table. "We can't just invite her along to our meetings!"
Neville looked at him timidly. "But we agreed to find a few approachable Slytherins, so that we'd have someone from every house in the group."
"To make friends," nodded Hermione. "Ron, it's so important!"
"Then you talk to her," he said stubbornly.
Hermione folded her serviette and put it to one side. "Alright then, I will, since you're too pig-headed."
***
They had started to arrange the first meeting of term for the remaining members of the DA. As clubs were no longer forbidden, as they had been under Umbridge's brief rule, they no longer had to act in secret, and could talk about it openly with their classmates. Harry was sitting with Ernie, Luna and the Creevey brothers, and arranged a convenient time for them to meet before the start of Quidditch training. They were joined by Michael and Cho. Cho had obviously stopped being angry with Harry, and had stopped ignoring him. She now seemed satisfied with the way things had ended the previous year, and appeared to get on very well with Michael. She had also stopped throwing poisonous glances at Hermione whenever she was nearby.
"If you're looking for your girlfriend," Michael greeted Harry, "I'd look near the lake. That girl with a mane like a lion who's talking and laughing with a Slytherin." He seemed as surprised as Ron had been at lunch.
Harry scribbled down the date and time for the next meeting on a piece of parchment and handed it to Cho. "Ah, she's talking to Amber." He said it so casually that Michael looked confused. Harry sighed. "Listen, it's bad enough that most of the Slytherins have prejudices against everyone else. We shouldn't have any, if we find one or two decent Slytherins."
"How do you know that Amber's a decent person?" Michael grumbled.
Harry grabbed his schoolbag and stood up. "A first impression? And I think I'll go and get another one. See you in Herbology."
He left the group and strolled down to the lake. It was a glorious autumn day and most of the students were spending their lunch hour out of doors. Hermione and Amber were sitting under a tree next to the lake. Harry waved to the girls and they waved back. He smiled and joined them.
"Hermione's just told me about your group," said Amber, leaning against the tree trunk. "I'd like to come along, if I wouldn't be in the way. Oh." She laughed and held out her hand. "We haven't been officially introduced. I'm Amber Barnacle."
"I know," grinned Harry, shaking hands with her. "I'm Harry Potter."
"I know that too," she laughed.
They leant over the parchment that Harry held out to them, and he told Amber the time and place of the meeting. They had arranged to meet on Wednesday evening. There was an empty room next to the Charms classroom which was big enough and which they would be allowed to use.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Harry asked after a while.
Amber looked at him curiously. "What question?"
"Why you're in Slytherin."
She laughed and tossed back her blond hair. It was the same colour as Draco's, Harry realised. But apart from that she seemed nothing like her cousin.
"For the last few centuries it's been a scandal in my family if anyone doesn't end up in Slytherin. It's tradition."
"But the Sorting Hat." Harry began, but Amber interrupted him. "In its way the hat is corruptible too. It rarely happens that it sends someone from a well-known family to a completely different house from the one all their ancestors belonged to. Besides, I never objected to being in Slytherin. I wanted to be."
"You wanted to be in Slytherin?" Hermione asked.
Amber nodded. "Sure. My father wouldn't have been happy if I'd have ended up in Hufflepuff. That was his greatest fear. He didn't think I was selfish enough to be in Slytherin and was prepared for the worst.and I wanted to give him a nice surprise."
Harry and Hermione stared at her open-mouthed, and she laughed.
"And? Was he pleased?" Hermione chuckled.
Amber grinned. "Pleased as punch. He fell to ground and thanked his holy demons for saving him from such ignominy." She laughed louder. A group of Hufflepuffs, who were passing by, looked at her uncertainly and sped up a little.
Harry gave Amber the parchment and she promised to come to the meeting. On the way back to the classroom, Hermione gave him a friendly nudge. "What will Ron say when we tell him what nice people there are in Slytherin?"
Harry smiled. "He'd rather eat a Quaffle for breakfast than believe it."
***
However, neither of them had the chance to speak to Ron before Potions. To start the lesson, Snape growled out a complicated recipe for the Carraig- Potion, which was used to turn objects and plants into stone. Harry almost miscounted his palusos scales as he thought about what he should say to Snape. Actually he didn't want to say anything to him. He would have preferred not to be dependent on the bad-tempered teacher. But he knew that Severus Snape could not be avoided if he wanted to get his visions under control.
To his satisfaction he managed to produce a potion that was the right colour, and immediately corked a sample of it in a labelled bottle. Each student was supposed to bring a sample to Snape at the end of the lesson, so that he could test the potion's effectiveness. But before Harry could hand in his bottle, Malfoy pushed his way between Harry and the desk, a malicious smile on his face. Unseen by Snape, he knocked the bottle from Harry's hand and it smashed to pieces on the floor.
"Oh, Potter, how clumsy of me," smirked Malfoy as he placed his own sample on Snape's desk. "I'm so sorry."
Fuming, Harry ignored the oily smile that Snape gave when he saw that Harry had unfortunately cleaned his caldron before handing in the sample. Once again he had nothing to show for his practical work. He could already see a triumphant Snape throwing him off the course. He felt like wringing Malfoy's neck on the spot.
Hermione shot him a sympathetic glance as he walked back to his place. He didn't have time to make another potion. The lesson was already over and the students were leaving the classroom.
Harry slowly packed his things together and watched the others leave. When the last of them had disappeared through the doorway, he stood up too. He looked over at Professor Snape, who was brooding over a piece of parchment on his desk and didn't notice him. Either that, thought Harry, or he was simply ignoring him.
He felt terribly awkward as he walked hesitantly around his desk towards Snape, who still hadn't looked up. The splinters of glass from his bottle were still lying on the floor, and Harry stepped over them with a sigh. It would be a miracle if Snape even listened to him without chasing him out of the classroom. Harry's throat was bone dry. Finally he gave a little cough.
"Er. Professor.?"
Snape looked up and stared at him. His piercing gaze did nothing to increase Harry's confidence. There was a moment of complete silence, and Harry took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Potter, but there can be no excuse for the broken bottle," said Snape coolly, glancing down at Harry's Carraig-Potion which was still shining wet on the floor.
"That's not what I'm here about," answered Harry. Not only would Snape refuse to give him a grade for the missing potion, he was now going to get even further into his teacher's bad books. The Potions master raised his eyebrows in a question. "I." stammered Harry, "... I wanted to ask you if you could give me Occultation lessons again. and to apologise.for." Snape's gaze was now so piercing that Harry thought his eyes would bore deep holes in his head. He forced himself to continue: ".for not taking the lessons seriously. I.I'm sorry."
He had said it. Harry felt slightly sick. Now Snape would use this admission of weakness to humiliate him and send him out of the room. But the teacher was silent. He put the parchment aside and leant slowly back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
"So, you'd like Occultation lessons..." he drawled. "Why the sudden interest? Are you hoping to amuse yourself by dragging out more embarrassing memories from my past?" His voice was so cold that the dungeon seemed snug and warm in comparison.
"No, sir," said Harry quietly. "And I didn't enjoy it."
Again Snape's dark eyes seemed to bore into him. "So you didn't enjoy watching your heroic father tormenting your hated teacher as a schoolboy?" he asked acidly.
Harry dropped his eyes. "He had no reason to do that."
"Of course he had a reason!" Snape said so loudly that Harry jumped in alarm. "You've heard his reason for yourself, Potter!"
Yes, he'd heard. "It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.".
"No," Harry murmured, forcing himself to raise his eyes. "What I heard wasn't a reason and it wasn't an excuse. But Professor - I don't want to talk about my father. I."
"Because I could end up spoiling that image you have of a perfect father and all-round nice guy?" Snape snorted, rolling up the parchment on his desk.
"Up till then everyone had said nice things about him!" Harry's fear of his Potions teacher had vanished and been replaced by a rebellious defiance. "How was I supposed to know that he could be an arrogant idiot too if no one told me? Because friends never say bad things about their friends, no matter what they've done!"
Snape had been about to turn away from him, but he stopped. He voice was now quieter, but still cutting. He looked searchingly at Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Potter, did you ever have the desire to own somebody? Not just the wish - the desire!"
Harry looked at him in surprise at the obvious change of subject. "The desire to. what?"
"Answer my question!" Snape shouted, bringing the roll of parchment down smartly on the desk so that the potion bottles clinked together. "Yes or no?".
Harry had jumped back a step and was staring at his teacher in horror. "No, sir," he answered in a small voice.
Snape rested both hands on his desk and leant forward. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. "Your father did. He wanted to own Lily. Not to win her in a fair fight, no, he wanted to own her, whatever the cost! And he was so, so sure that he would get her!"
For a moment Harry stood as if rooted to the spot, and then, quite suddenly, he understood. Yes, now he understood everything.
"You loved her," he blurted out in surprise, and couldn't help but stare at Snape in bewilderment. Instead of losing his temper again, Snape remained silent and pressed his lips together. But even without an answer, Harry knew that he was right. Back then, his father had been trying to impress Lily, so that she would go out with him. And Snape must have had an eye on her too. That would explain the rivalry between the two young men that had escalated into hatred. But.
"You called her a Mudblood," said Harry, and now it was his turn to speak coldly.
Snape raised his eyes and nodded. He answered so calmly and seriously that his words seemed to resonate in Harry's ears. "Yes, I did. When you're humiliated to that point you say the wrong things out of sheer desperation, just to preserve a scrap of pride. Even the pride that prevents you from accepting someone's help."
Harry didn't answer, but he understood. He himself was often too proud to ask for help, even when it was the right thing to do. False pride - as he had painfully come to realise. And in disbelief he found that for the first time ever while in Snape's presence he actually felt sympathy for this man he had always hated so much.
"In the following generation the roles seem to have been reversed," Snape remarked, packing away the roll of parchment and the bottles of Carraig- Potion. "Thursday at six-thirty," he added shortly. Harry looked at him in astonishment. "Occultation lesson in my office," Snape growled. "And I would advise you to be punctual!"
It took a moment for Harry to process the fact that Snape had actually agreed to teach him. Still surprised, he stammered out a "thank you, sir", grabbed his schoolbag and threw it over his shoulder. He hurried to the door, worried that he'd misheard and that Snape was about to send him to the devil. He wound his way through the rows of tables and had just reached the door when he heard a soft "Reparo!" from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Snape pick his now repaired bottle of Carraig-Potion from the floor. Some drops of the potion had remained on the glass and were now inside the bottle. Snape turned over the bottle in his hands, examining its contents. "Not much left, and it's rather dirty. but as a sample it will do." He looked up. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall by now, Potter?" he snapped.
A smile stole across Harry's face when he saw Snape put his sample with the others as he left the dungeon.
***
"I'm proud of you," beamed Hermione when he told her and Ron about his conversation with Snape. "It's so important for you to carry on with Occultation lessons."
Ron pulled a face. "In his shoes I'd rather give it a miss, knowing Snape."
"Well fortunately you're not in his shoes," Hermione snapped, and Ron pulled his chair a little further away from her.
"Alright, alright," he reassured her. "I was only joking. But I look forward to seeing Malfoy's face when Snape reads out the marks and he hears to his surprise that Harry's didn't fail!"
